Incursion Page 2
Eyes stinging from the dust, Ten reached the top of the conduit and swung himself over to the balcony. From all around came sounds of boots, weapons and orders. The terrorists were repositioning, getting ready to storm out of the building to try and pick him off before he got inside. He could hear them thundering up the stairs to head him off at the pass. And at the core of this unit were his mission objective, the civilians who they – he – was supposed to be rescuing.
He scooped up an abandoned automatic weapon from the balcony and checked it – plenty of ammo still – then aimed it directly at the doorway ahead. Two terrorists ran through, guns blazing, but he took them out cleanly, then shot both in the head again. If he’d learnt one thing from these sorts of operation, it’s that you finish your enemies properly. Firing from below, and Ten spun to find more shooters. He returned the compliment, killing two outright and wounding the third.
“Careless,” he said, cursing the lost seconds as he fired again to finish the wounded terrorist.
There were more of them coming up through the inside of the building now, disorganised and undisciplined. They moved quickly but carelessly as they hunted him. He killed another – a teenager – as he gawped at the bodies Ten had created only seconds before. He hated killing kids; they’d never get to learn the elements of battle like he had.
He walked from the balcony to the office beyond, where three bodies now littered the doorway. He could hear the terrorists whispering and shuffling into position on the other side of the entrance, waiting for him to show his face.
Fuck that for a game of soldiers, thought Ten, backing away from the door. He pulled the pin from his last grenade and listened to the terrorists counting down on the other side of the door.
Three, two, one.
He rolled the grenade when their count hit two and left it nestling amongst the three corpses. It exploded as the remaining terrorists tore into the room, yelling and firing their weapons as they came. A tsunami of guts and body parts spattered the walls of the room, and suddenly, the building was quiet.
“You boys are going to have to redecorate,” murmured Ten, stepping up to the doorway. He paused on the threshold with the caution born of long experience. Then he kicked a severed hand out into the hallway and grinned at the panicked gunfire that erupted from either side of the door.
He burst through the doorway, shooting first to his left and then dropping to one knee as he turned to shoot the other way. After the gunfire, the sudden click of an empty rifle in the now quiet corridor was unnatural. Ten remained kneeling for a few heartbeats longer, listening as much as watching for movement; then he dropped the captured weapon and unslung his rifle.
At first, the building seemed clear, but then the sound of running boots led him to two fleeing guards. They’d obviously given up on their “higher cause,” whatever ill-informed, anti-Sol bullshit had filled their heads. He shot them both as they ran, then followed his rifle down the steps of the ornate staircase.
For a moment, Ten had almost given up the mission, but experience had taught him there’s always a last twist or a final play. What had they been thinking, teaming him up with a bunch of rookies?
He could hear the anxious murmuring of the captives in the central courtyard, terrified to step beyond the doors that held them in case their captors were still at large. These were government officials and administrators, of high value to Sol.
Ten kicked the double wooden doors open, ready to stride in like the cocky hero he was.
“You’re safe, the building’s clear…” he began.
Before he’d finished the sentence, a single bullet entered the space between his eyes, exploding his head all over the people he’d rescued.
In the milliseconds before he hit the ground, he had just time for one final profound thought.
Fucking snipers!
2
Ten blinked himself awake and sat up.
“A simulation?” he said bitterly as he looked around. “You know there’s supposed to be a fucking command switch, right? An escape route to stop people losing their minds?”
“Get up, arsehole,” said a voice, completely ignoring Ten’s complaints. “You’re about to be on the receiving end of rapid machine-gun fire!”
Ten hauled himself to his feet and followed the man…no, it wasn’t a man, it was a woman. She was built like a brick shithouse, and they were on some kind of spaceship. Only moments previously he’d been in a virtual firefight with a bunch of terrorists. He knew they were running him through a series of high-intensity simulations, but he was struggling to keep up, or see the point of the exercise.
A special mission. We need your unique experience and skills, Staines had said, trying to flatter him. A break from the Deathless, you won’t be out of the New Bristol theatre for long, he’d promised.
Well, so far he’d frazzled his arm, been shot in the head and fed a bit of his ear to a rat. The battle with the Deathless was beginning to look like a kids’ movie in comparison.
“Where are we?” he said, shaky on his feet.
“It doesn’t matter. Tool up and get ready for a firefight.”
This was better. A Heads-Up Display, albeit an unfamiliar model, some decent weaponry and no place for snipers to hide. It was Sol construction too – definitely not Deathless. That made a change, at least.
Ten never thought he’d say it, but you could get enough of a good thing. Shooting lizards had been fun for a while, but terrorists and whatever this was made for a refreshing change of pace. In the world of Marine X, this had all the hallmarks of a relaxing break.
“Any body armour?” he asked hopefully. It had been a long time since he’d gone basic. He preferred things the modern way, with tech, gadgets and big kick-ass guns. Even better if there was something that belched fire at the enemy.
“That,” said the woman, pointing across the room, “is Trooper Mason. I’m Corporal Conway, SBS. Mission details are on your HUD. Tool up, Marine, we’ve got some baddies to kill!”
“Baddies?” muttered Ten incredulously. “Are you a real person or just a badly scripted sim-character?”
Conway ignored him, and the HUD flashed into life. Mason and Conway were at the door ready to go.
“Who’s Davies?” Ten asked, frowning at the squad list in his HUD.
“Over here!” came a reedy voice. Davies held up a hand, but the friendliness of his wave was drowned by the hostility in his face.
“What are you, the cleaner?” he asked.
“Enough of the smart arse attitude,” snapped Conway, hostile and impatient. “Trooper Davies is about to unlock all the doors on this wretched spaceship. And when he does, you sure as hell had better have your finger on the trigger. These pirates aren’t going to want to release this cargo.”
Davies shrugged him off, used to the jibes of Marines. He was one himself, after all, so he knew how it worked. His skills lay elsewhere; they took a while to grow on brawns like Ten.
The message flashed up on Ten’s HUD.
“Kill me now,” muttered Ten, shaking his head.
“Okay, opening the doors in three, two one,” said Davies. He was overjoyed with his own technical acumen.
The sketchy briefing said they were in a storage unit on a pirate ship, but with no explanation as to why. Ten hadn’t figured out if they were in space or docked in a hangar. Either way, the bad guys were pirates, the ship was stolen, and they had some sort of collateral – as yet unknown – to seize as part of the simulated operation. They would receive that intel when they reached the internment ce
ll where he, she or it was located.
The heavy black door slid open and rapid gunfire greeted the team. Shrapnel and bullets filled the air and pierced the metal walls, sending shards flying across the corridor as an assault of explosions echoed through the ship. It was only ten enemy guns, but it felt like an army firing at them.
“I thought these were low-budget rent-a-pirates?” said Ten. “Where’d they get tooled up like that?” He ducked back into cover to avoid the incoming hail of bullets.
“Concentrate, Marine,” snapped Conway, her tone impatient. She said “Marine” as if it were an insult, and her attitude was beginning to annoy Ten.
Never one to chit-chat, Mason was already on the case. He’d activated a piece of kit about which Ten had heard only rumours from the research team.
“This is my kind of warfare,” said Mason, like he was reading Ten’s mind.
Davies was on his HUD now, gun at the ready, but he hung back, letting the others take the lead.
Mason activated a metallic disc that hovered just above ankle level. He gave it a nudge, shoving it through the doorway so that it floated off down the corridor toward the pirates; then he ducked back into cover. There was a bright white flash followed by a deep rumble that shook the walls.
“Go!” shouted Conway, charging down the left into the clouds of smoke. Mason followed on the right and Ten took the centre, with Davies following up behind.
As the smoke cleared at the end of the corridor, they found the bodies of ten pirates, all wearing unfamiliar body armour and carrying non-standard weaponry.
“This isn’t military kit,” said Mason. “Where the hell do these guys get this stuff?”
“It’s a fucking simulation,” muttered Ten, kicking at a corpse. “Who cares what they’re armed with?”
“This is all illegal,” said Davies, ignoring the Penal Marine and barely able to contain his excitement. “Some of this shit never made it out of testing, either inhumane or too dangerous. I’m taking one of these, who wants this piece of Sol crap when you can use one of these bad boys?”
He discarded his rifle and prised a heavy weapon from the hands of a dead pirate.
“So long as you use it, DD, I don’t particularly care … target right!” said Conway as she spotted movement.
They all spun to the side as a pirate ducked into the corridor, head-scraping the ceiling. He swung a huge multi-barrelled weapon towards the crew, and it whined as the motors spun.
“Cover,” yelled Conway, diving aside as the team scattered.
But Davies was ready with his looted weapon, and it belched fire to punch a fist-sized hole in the giant’s chest.
The pirate rocked back, weapon drooping as the strength left his arms. Then there was a dull crump, and the man’s chest exploded, spraying the corridor with blood.
“Now that’s what I call a weapon!” said Davies in a state of weaponry rapture.
“That’s why these things are illegal,” said Mason sagely. “They’re just too much fun, so Sol won’t let us use them. A kill is a kill, as far as I’m concerned. And the less effort I have to use to achieve that, the better.”
“Simulation,” said Ten wearily. “None of it’s real.”
“We’ll do this in pairs,” said Conway. “Ten and DD, take the right corridor. Mason, you’re with me,” she said, heading left. “Clear the decks, make for the elevator down to the internment area. Rendezvous in ten minutes. Go!”
Conway and Mason disappeared up the left-hand corridor, leaving Ten and DD to take the right.
“No shit from her, is there?” said Ten.
“She’s good. She saved my arse a bunch of times. Don’t doubt her, she knows her stuff,” said Davies, jumping to Conway’s defence.
Ten shrugged and followed Davies along the corridor. For all his lack of bravado, there was no doubt that DD was a soldier. As they moved stealthily along the darkened corridor, checking rooms as they went, his movements were skilful and practised. He was easy to work with, and Ten found DD’s oddities strangely reassuring.
“Hold on, getting a warning,” whispered Davies. Then he swore and dragged Ten into a side room, sliding the door closed behind them.
“Shoot them?” hissed Ten, his rifle aimed at the door. Davies shook his head and held his finger to his lips.
Moving slowly, Davies drew a piece of electrical equipment from a compartment in his body armour.
The clones were lying on the floor, crashed in a heap and rendered useless.
“How’d you do that?” asked Ten, frowning with suspicion.
“Jammed the control frequency,” said Davies. “But it only lasts till they assign new codes. They’ll reactivate in about thirty seconds. If we can make it to the main elevator by then, we’ll outrun them.”
A countdown appeared in Ten’s HUD.
Davies began running.
“Shouldn’t we just shoot them?” asked Ten, disturbed to be running from a prone but still dangerous enemy.
“Booby-trapped, remember?” said Davies as he ran. “They tend to explode if shot.”
Ten ran, following Davies’ lead. In his HUD he could see Conway and Mason making rapid progress, sticking to their plan to converge at the elevator where the two corridors met and then make their way down to the internment area.
They raced down the corridor, heedless of other potential threats. With ten seconds still on the clock, Ten heard the clones reactivating.
Conway and Mason were there before them, waiting inside the elevator.
“Hurry it up,” shouted Conway, “or we go without you.”
There was a deep rumble within the bowels of the ship.
“They’re leaving the ship. Someone has taken off in a shuttle,” said Mason, a frustrated expression on his face. “Mission failure. Fuck it!”
“Come on,” screamed Conway as Davies and Ten pounded the last few metres. “They’re right behind you!”
“Oh no they aren’t,” hissed Ten, giggling at his own inane joke as he and Davies fell at last into the lift. The doors began to slide shut behind them as Conway hammered at the switch.
“Incoming,” warned Mason as the drones rose from the ground in a deadly act of resurrection and shot down the corridor toward the lift.
“Duck!” shouted Conway as the drones opened fire, rounds skimming between the closing doors to slap at the lift’s inner walls. Conway slapped the elevator’s activation button as bullets ripped at the doors. The lift lurched downward, then stopped, jammed in place.
Then there was a massive explosion, and the elevator was blown into a million tiny pieces.
3
“Your performance was lamentable.”
Ten recognised the voice. Was that Staines? He wasn’t in the same room, but he’d be re
ady to place a bet on it being the admiral. They were either in deep shit, or something big was about to kick off.
He looked around. Still the headache. Still the sore ear too, only it was back where it belonged now. All intact, once again. Bloody simulations. Sometimes he couldn’t work out what was real and what was make-believe, which was why the sims had escape buttons.
The sore head was definitely real, though.
But at least now he was somewhere he recognised. A standard military briefing room. A crappy overhead projector. Seats that made your arse feel like it was on fire after only five minutes. This was what they were all fighting to preserve, their great tradition of freedom and shitty chairs.
Conway walked into the room, accompanied by Davies, Mason and another woman whom Ten hadn’t met before.
“Oh, you’re real,” said Ten in surprise. “Thought you were training material.”
None of them acknowledged his comments. They just took their seats alongside him, saying nothing.
Staines’ avatar appeared in front of them, an immediate air of authority and status emanating from his very soul. The Marines stood up as he was followed in virtual form by other officers, none of whom they’d seen before. They all remained standing.
Admiral Staines launched straight into him. “Marine X, you’re a bloody disgrace!”
“Sir,” said Ten promptly, acknowledging the admiral.
He knew he’d blown the training missions. They’d been careless. He’d been careless. First the sniper, then the mined elevator. Leave the ship and booby-trap the exits was a pirate classic, and they’d missed it. Rookie mistakes in both simulations.
“You people are supposed to be the best we’ve got!” said Staines, spitting his words. He was not a happy man. “And we’re out of time. We have to deploy you as an SBS team. Apparently the military hasn’t got any better!”